


Friends and Enemies

by darkpenn



Series: The Artificial Heart [2]
Category: Ghost in the Shell
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkpenn/pseuds/darkpenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Americans are involved, nothing is clear and nothing is easy, as the Major and Batou find out for themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends and Enemies

[This story takes place within the Stand Alone Complex period, and follows the story ‘With Enough Parts … ’]

 

“Major,” said Aramaki, “Are you certain you are ready for a return to active duty?”  
“Quite sure,” said the Major. She and Batou were in Aramaki’s office.  
“Then I have an assignment for the two of you,” he said. “It involves a trip to Chicago, the capital of the American Empire.”  
The Major felt Batou, in the seat next to her, stiffen.  
“Does that give either of you a problem?” said Aramaki. “I am aware, of course, of the war records of both of you.”  
The Major gave a shrug. As for Batou, there was a long pause before he spoke. Then he said: “War’s been over for a while. No problem.”  
“To what do we owe this invitation?” said the Major.  
“The American Under-secretary for Security Affairs is convening a two-day conference on international terrorist groups, especially the Sunflower Society,” said Aramaki. “As you know, the Sunflower Society has become active in several places in the AE, and it appears the Americans are willing to trade information. You were requested by name, Major. It seems your rescue of the American trade delegation made an impression. And Batou, your research into the origin of the rocket launcher used by the Sunflowers proved most interesting.”  
The Major raised a questioning eyebrow. Batou had delved into the issue while she had been on leave.  
“Basically, we managed to track it using the serial numbers and metal analysis,” said Batou, by way of explanation. “It went back to a Canadian weapons warehouse. But the senior people in what used to be the Canadian government say – and we believe them – that the warehouse was taken over by the Quebecois when Canada broke up, and Quebec joined the Alliance Francaise. Funnelling some weapons to an anarchist group like the Sunflowers is the sort of thing that would fit with French security strategy. Effective but easily deniable. And they wouldn’t much care if some of the weapons got passed around the Sunflower network, and ended up here in Japan. The Alliance dislikes us nearly as much as they dislike the Americans.”  
“Even the Americans would need more proof than a number on an old box before they took any action directly against Quebec or the Alliance,” said Aramaki. “I suspect that they have called this conference to try and gather enough evidence to make a case against the French DSG, especially its Montreal branch.”  
“So from our perspective, is this a case of the enemy of my enemy being my friend?” said the Major.  
“When you’re talking about the Americans, friend is a dangerous word to use,” said Aramaki. “Let’s remember that our military conflict with the Americans several years ago was never declared, and never really involved the conventional military forces of either side. Just the Special Forces of each country, fighting as allies of one side or another. In Central America, in your case, Batou, and in southern China – now the Cantonese Union, of course – in your case, Major. And as you know, our current government is seeking better relations with the American Empire, and I understand that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs sees this conference as a part of that. There will, of course, be a number of MFA officials attending.”  
“Well, we can’t let the MFA get their foot too far in the door, can we,” said Batou, with a chuckle.  
“So it looks as if we’re going to America,” said the Major.

 

As the Major and Batou disembarked from the MFA plane at Chicago airport, they were greeted by two smartly-dressed women.  
“I am Captain Loretta Alito of the Department of Security Affairs,” said the more senior one. “My colleague is Police Lieutenant Maria D’Angelo. Welcome to America. Always a pleasure to meet our international counterparts. We will guide you through the airport security measures.”  
The Major and Batou looked around. There seemed to be armed guards everywhere, as well as officials with weapon- and bomb-detecting equipment.  
“Major, I believe you have an entirely cybernetic body, and you, Mister Batou, have a cybernetic arm and artificial eyes, is that correct?” said D’Angelo. When they nodded, she keyed data into a portable terminal she carried. “Without the right clearance, you’d set off every metal detector between here and Seattle,” she said. “And that would make a very loud noise, let me tell you.”  
“There are some rules that we have to explain to you,” said Alito, as the four of them got into a waiting limousine. “First, you are not allowed to carry guns, or weapons of any sort. It is simply illegal here, except for authorised officers. And, of course, the use of therm-optic camouflage is illegal, although I cannot see that the need for it will arise. You are here to attend a conference, after all. Also, you will find that you do not have the capacity to connect to USNet – our system and yours are simply incompatible at both the hardware and software levels, although of course there are official links.”  
“Mister Batou, I understand you have been in the United States before,” said D’Angelo.  
“Yes, when I was quite a bit younger,” said Batou. “I studied for a while in Washington – that was when Washington was still there, and was the capital, of course.”  
“Then I envy you,” said Alito. “I never got to see it, myself. And the area is still undergoing rehabilitation. They estimate that the radioactivity will have subsided to safe levels in a few more years, but I don’t think it will ever be the same. In the meantime, Chicago is coming along just fine as the new capital.”  
“So I see,” said the Major. They seemed to be driving through one massive construction site, a labyrinth of highways and a forest of skyscrapers.  
“And you also fought against us, in Mexico, Mister Batou,” said D’Angelo.  
“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago,” he said. “And please call me Batou. It serves as both last name and first name.”  
“Very well,” said Alito. She looked at the Major.  
“My first name is Major,” said the Major.  
There was a long and somewhat strained silence. Eventually, Alito said: “I trust you brought formal wear for the pre-conference reception tonight.”  
“Er, no, we weren’t informed of that,” said Batou.  
“This is about as formal as I get,” said the Major. She was wearing her usual black jeans and leather jacket.  
Batou cleared his throat.  
“But in the interest of diplomacy I am sure I can find something,” she said.  
“Perhaps you will want to wear a kimono,” said D’Angelo.  
Batou laughed.  
“You know, a kimono,” said D’Angleo. “A traditional Japanese – ”  
“I know what a kimono is,” said the Major. “And no, I will not wear one.”   
“Pity,” said Batou, with a huge smile. “Would have made the whole trip that much more worthwhile.”

 

“Well, that’s really something,” said Batou. “I didn’t know you had such a flair for the dramatic.”  
The Major was wearing a cut-to-cleavage, skin-tight red gown.  
“Batou, you’ve seen me undressed plenty of times,” she said. “The therm-optic suit doesn’t leave much to the imagination, you know. And speaking of impressive, you look good in the tux.”  
“Hmm, not really my thing but I managed to find a place that did my size,” he said.  
They went into the ballroom, where Alito, wearing a slinky silver evening gown, was waiting for them.  
“Quite a conference,” said Batou, nodding at the crowd of people in the huge room, many of them on the polished dance floor.  
“Well, this is just the official function, which attracts all sorts of diplomatic and private sector people,” said Alito. “The conference itself will take place upstairs, and will only be about forty people. We look forward to your presentations about the Sunflower Society and its various offshoots and factions.”  
“And we look forward to hearing the American perspective,” said the Major. “But for the moment, perhaps my colleague and I will try your dance floor.”  
Batou looked somewhat astonished. “Er, yeah, okay,” he said.  
They joined the crowd of dancing couples.  
“So what do you think?” said the Major.  
“You’re pretty good,” said Batou. “I didn’t know you could dance.”  
“I took lessons,” she said. “But I suggested this because it’s probably the only place that they can’t put a mike on us. I’m assuming that our hotel rooms are bugged, and that any communications between us on our link would be monitored. It’s what we do at home, so I think the same rules would apply here.”  
“Oh, right,” said Batou. “Work, right. What do I think? I think these are very serious people. I think if they get some hard evidence on the Alliance Francaise being behind the Sunflower Society, there’ll be mushroom clouds over Montreal. They did it with Iran, even though they didn’t have any proof that Iran was behind the Washington hit. It’s just that the mullahs were dumb enough to applaud. And that was … how many dead? Twenty million?”  
“Closer to twenty-five, eventually,” said the Major. “Not that our government, or anyone else for that matter, condemned their action.”  
“So our discussions tomorrow are going to be frank and full?” said Batou.  
“That’s why Aramaki sent us,” she said. “Not to try and manage the political fallout. Or any other kind.”  
“Right. Er, one thing, Major … ”  
“Yes?”  
“Perhaps you shouldn’t mention the dancing thing to Togusa. Or Ishikawa. Or Boma. I have a reputation as a tough guy to maintain, after all.”  
She smiled. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” she said.  
The music ended, and they rejoined Alito and D’Angelo. Alito suggested that the Major and Batou might like to scrutinise the security arrangements proposed for the conference, and the four of them toured the building.  
“You certainly take security seriously,” said the Major, after a while.  
“Well, a suitcase nuke in Washington five years ago, a fuel-air bomb that took out six blocks of Dallas three years ago, the biological attack in Vancouver last year … can you blame us for wanting to defend ourselves? We have decided that strong action is the best response. Our strike on Iran brought the threat of Islamic fundamentalism to a dead halt, as you know.”  
“And Quebec is next on the list?” said Batou.  
“If there is sufficient evidence, we will act as necessary,” said D’Angelo.  
The Major pointed to the white-coated security staff, all using electronic equipment of one type or another. “So you are also concerned about eavesdropping,” she said.  
“Yes, there are many who would like to know what is said at the conference tomorrow,” Alito said. “But don’t worry, our people are very good. Three teams of five, they can scan the whole building.”  
“Three teams of five,” repeated the Major.  
“Yes,” said Alito.  
“Then why,” said the Major, “would there be seventeen people wandering around with scanning equipment?”  
“Seventeen?” said D’Angelo. “Are you sure?”  
The Major looked at her.  
“It’s your party but I suggest,” said Batou, “that you seal the exits. Is there a place where the security vehicles are parked?”  
“That would be the basement,” said Alito. D’Angelo produced a phone from somewhere in her evening gown and begun barking orders into it, as the four of them made for the internal staircase.  
They burst into the basement. There were four security vans parked near the ramp leading to the street exit.  
“One too many trucks,” said D’Angelo.  
With an effort, Alito hitched up her tight skirt and pulled a small pistol from a holster strapped to her thigh, as well as her badge.  
“I’m DSA, and we have a security issue,” she called out. “I am ordering everyone here to remain where they are until their identification can be checked.”  
Suddenly, the back of one of the vans opened. There was a man in a white security outfit there – with a machine gun. He fired.  
The Major, Batou, Alito and D’Angelo dived for cover as bullets ricocheted around the concrete basement. Alito fired back, but the van had already begun to move, heading for the exit ramp. The man in the back fired another burst, and then started to pull the doors closed.  
Another white-suited man came out of the elevator and ran for the van.  
He would have reached it, except that Batou tackled him, bringing him down with a crash on the concrete. The Major and Alito raced after the van, leaving D’Angelo to arrest Batou’s victim.  
At the top of the ramp, the van encountered a policeman on a motorbike. It sideswiped him, knocking him down. The van was roaring away as the Major and Alito reached the top of the ramp. Alito fired a series of parting shots, but to no effect.  
“Goddamn!” she said. “Bulletproof tyres.”  
Then they saw the bike.  
“Can you drive one of these things?” said the Major.  
“I can, but I’m out of bullets, and this outfit doesn’t come with extra clips,” said Alito.  
“If you can get close, it will be enough,” said the Major.  
They lifted the bike, got on – not easy in evening gowns – and took off. They saw that the radio had been damaged in the impact with the van.  
The Major activated her link. “Batou?” she said.  
“Right here,” came Batou’s voice. “We’ve got this one, for what it’s worth. I dented my tux. Where are you?”  
“In pursuit of the van. On a police bike, and out of bullets.”  
There was a pause. “O – kay,” said Batou.  
The Major leaned forward so she could shout into Alito’s ear over the slipstream. “Where are they going?” she said.  
“They’re heading for the old city, downtown,” shouted Alito back. “It’s a rabbit warren there. Any number of hiding places.”  
“Batou, we’re heading for downtown,” said the Major. “Get the cop to organise an intercept, if possible.”  
The bike was faster than the van, and they were gaining quickly. But the labyrinth of the downtown area was in sight.  
“Batou, I’m going to be busy,” said the Major. “Ending link.”  
She signalled to Alito to move closer to the van. Alito did, and then shouted: “What have you got in mind?”  
“Hold it steady,” said the Major. She stood up on the back of the bike.  
“Fuck!” said Alito. “You can’t intend to – ”  
The Major jumped, somersaulting through the night air.   
She landed on her feet on the van’s roof. A hail of bullets tore upwards, as the man inside heard the noise and fired blindly.  
The Major steadied herself, and then punched downwards through the roof. She pulled back the metal as if she was peeling a piece of fruit, and jumped down.  
Alito, behind the van, saw the Major disappear inside. “Fuck!” she said again. “How can she do that!?”  
There was a burst of gunfire from inside, and a line of holes appeared in the side of the van. Then the gunfire stopped.   
The van turned suddenly into a side-street. There was a warehouse at the end of the road, with open doors. There was a man standing at the side of the doors, and when he saw Alito he pulled out a gun and fired. She dodged, turning into an alley. In the bike’s mirror, she saw the van pull into the warehouse, and the armed man heaving the doors closed. There was a volley of shots from inside.  
She came out of the alley and turned back towards the warehouse, coming up from the side. There was a sloped loading ramp, and a broken window. She gunned the bike to its full power. She still had the little pistol in her hand.  
With a shattering crash, she smashed through the window. She jumped off the bike in mid-air, landing hard and rolling across the wooden floor. In a moment, she was in the crouch position, gun in hand.  
“Hullo, Captain,” said the Major. “That was a very dramatic entrance. But I thought you were out of bullets.”  
“I am, but the perps don’t know that,” said Alito. She looked around, and stood up. There were four unconscious men in the warehouse, and presumably another in the back of the van. “You alright, Major?” she said.  
The Major pointed to a large tear down the side of her gown. “They don’t make these things for hand-to-hand,” she said.  
Alito laughed. She again hitched up her dress – which she now realised was also ripped and torn – and replaced her pistol in its holster.  
From outside, there was the sound of a police helicopter.  
“You can call me Loretta,” said Alito.  
“You can call me Major,” said the Major.

 

It was the next day, shortly before the conference was to begin, when Alito drew the Major and Batou aside, into an anteroom.  
“Last night has been wrapped up pretty tight, but I think you have the right to know what we got from the six guys we arrested,” she said. “Actually, four of them are just mercs, muscle for hire, don’t even know who they were working for. They were supposed to plant bugs in here, and had got a few in, but once the DSA interrogation specialists went to work on them they were quite happy to tell us where they were located. So we dug them all out, not too much trouble.”  
“And the other two?” said Batou.  
“That’s where it gets interesting,” said Alito. “Have you heard of the Nine Zeroes Group?”  
“Yeah, a so-called retribution group,” said Batou. “They claim that a billion people have been killed by the developed nations over the past decade or so, hence the name. They’ve never operated in Japan, to my knowledge, but the leader is apparently a Japanese, Toru Shigata. There are no charges against him in Japan, but he’s designated as a ‘person of interest’. Trouble is, we’ve never been able to pin him down. There were rumours of him in Vietnam a few years back. Aside from that, we haven’t heard from him in a while. Our boss has a theory that the Nine Zeroes Group itself has moved out of terrorism and now focuses on selling information and weapons to other groups. Shigata was in cyber-finance before he jumped into terrorism.”  
“Yes, that ties up with our own understanding,” said Alito. “The two guys of the Nine Zeroes Group couldn’t tell us where Shigata is, and they haven’t yet told us how their group connects to the Sunflower Society, or to the Alliance Francaise. But I have no doubt that they will eventually tell us … something.”  
“Is there a reason to think there is a connection?” said the Major.  
“The Under-Secretary thinks there is,” said Alito. “That means that the President thinks there is.”  
The Major and Batou exchanged glances.  
There was a call from the main room that the conference was ready to begin, and that the Under-Secretary for Security Affairs had arrived to give the keynote address. 

 

The afternoon session of the conference had adjourned when Alito again came up to the Major.  
“The Under-Secretary has asked you to meet with him,” said Alito.  
“I am not a diplomat,” said the Major.  
“That much I know,” said Alito. “But it’s not really a request.”  
“Well, I could hardly refuse such a polite invitation,” said the Major.  
Alito escorted the Major to yet another limousine, which took them to the massive Department of Security Affairs building, located at the edge of Lake Michigan. Eventually, the two of them were ushered into the office of the Under-Secretary, a heavy-set man in an extremely expensive suit.  
“Major Kusanagi,” he said, shaking her hand. “It seems that we have much to thank you for, from that business in New Tokyo to your adventures last night. Is there anything we can do to show our gratitude?”  
“No,” said the Major.  
The Under-Secretary studied her for a long moment. “And of course your presentation today was very interesting,” he continued. “It really pointed the finger at the French Connection, as we call it. We are very glad for the support of your government.”  
The Major glanced briefly at Alito. The DSA agent brushed a lock of hair away from her face, touching her ear as she did so. Someone is listening, the gesture said. Be careful what you say.  
“If you gained the impression that I, and the government of Japan, believe that there is currently evidence that links the Sunflower Society and the Alliance Francaise, then I must apologise, because that was not the impression that I intended to give,” said the Major to the Under-Secretary. “My presentation was meant only to illustrate what we know of the internal structure and tactics of the Sunflower Society. My colleague Batou made a point of saying that the serial number on the missiles used by the Sunflower Society did not confirm a connection. It might suggest something, but it could easily be explained in other ways.”  
“But now there is a connection through this man Shigata, who supplies weapons to terrorist groups. Our information is that he and the Nine Zeroes Group have supplied the Sunflower Society in the past. Your government says that he was identified in Vietnam, which is a silent partner of the French Alliance, if not actually a member of it. I believe that is near where you saw military action, Major.”  
“There were unconfirmed reports of Shigata in Vietnam, nothing more. And I served in southern China, as it was then, which is a fair way from Vietnam.”  
“Ah, yes. You fought against US Special Forces troops, which were there at the invitation of our ally, the government of the Cantonese Union.”  
“My unit was there at the request of the Chinese government. Whether there was such a thing as the government of the Cantonese Union was, as I recall, what the military action was about. In any case, a political settlement was reached, and your government and mine have since developed good relations with both Beijing and Taipei.”  
The Under-Secretary chuckled. “Yes, now we’re all good friends again,” he said. “Are we friends, Major?”  
“Japan values its cordial relationship with the American Empire,” said the Major.  
The Under-Secretary laughed. “Very good, Major, very good, especially as you say you are not a diplomat,” he said, extending his hand. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, Major, and I trust that we will meet again.”  
“No doubt,” said the Major.

 

The Major knocked on the door of Batou’s room; she had not been able to reach him via their link. She was surprised that he took some time to answer, and when he eventually answered he was dressed in a hotel bathrobe. He opened the door only a little.  
“Er, hi,” he said. “How did you go with the big cheese?”  
“I have some concerns that we are being set up,” she said. “You should be careful about what you say to our hosts. They are trying to manoeuvre us into the position of saying that the Alliance Francaise is backing the Sunflower Society, I think.”  
Another voice came from inside Batou’s room. “Is that the champagne?” it said.  
“Ah,” said the Major. “That sounds like Lieutenant D’Angelo. Batou, are you engaging in a personal cultural exchange program?”  
“Well, I suppose you could describe it that way,” he said. “Don’t worry, Major, I’ve been careful. With what I say, I mean.”  
The door was pulled further open by Lieutenant D’Angelo, who gave a little gasp of surprise when she saw the Major. She was also wearing only a robe, which she now pulled a little closer around herself.  
“Well, Batou,” said the Major, “I expect you to do everything in your power to ensure improved Japanese-American relations. Consider that an order.”  
“You heard your superior officer,” said D’Angelo.  
“If you insist, Major,” he said, looking a little sheepish.  
As she walked back to her own room, the Major could not help but laugh.

 

END


End file.
